Lesotho

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Blame the vulture…

When will Lesotho break the pattern it is in? This is a question I have been trying to answer for myself for several days now.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Some people have argued that ntate Tom has brought us to this current moment of instability that we are in. This, I don’t completely dispute, given that ntate Tom has practically been in senior government leadership positions of almost all governments since the 80s— including the period where I could have been forgiven for thinking “Lebua ke mmuso ngoanaka!” was Lesotho’s national anthem.

So, as I said, I cannot dispute that ntate Tom is partially to blame for recent events, at the very least, for perpetuating the use of legal instruments to pursue political agendas. But, lest we forget, the one person who truly helped normalise this use was ntate Ntsu in the very act of “ba furalleng“, when he basically established a new ruling party (LCD) in parliament: to rule through application of legal mechanisms not based on anyone having literally put a cross against its name.

The moral question was secondary to ntate Ntsu. He concerned himself mostly with the legal question(s). For him, once he had decided to turn his back on his own sisters and brothers, he swiftly moved on and extended an invitation for everyone to do the same–“le ba furalleng, ‘na ke se ke ba furalletse”! To be sure, I am suggesting that it didn’t take him long to forget that he had implored us “ho hata mmoho“: to take synchronised steps towards peace and prosperity because together we can!

Personally, I think that swift change in positions characterises the moral flexibility of our political leaders … too flexible for notions of negotiating in good faith to work. Thus making it easy to rely on legal instruments/mechanisms because the question of bending the law is mute as long as one doesn’t break it.

By the above albeit warped logic, Ntate Tom wasn’t breaking the law when he prorogated the Parliament; he was acting out of an existing script, which he was also party to crafting with ntate Ntsu and many others. To blame him exclusively is unfair, especially if all he is doing is to bind his peers to this very liberal code of bending and never breaking the law.

As it stands, even as I pen this view, I don’t know what qualifies as the truth in Lesotho. All I know is that a vulture is almost always to blame. And at times, it may indeed be the “bearded vulture”, which, should we dare to blame, we can but find solace in the idiom, “lebitso lebe ke seromo“.

Can we do away with the carcass called power, in order to do away with all the vultures including the patiently waiting ones like the Guptas? This is a question-cum-prayer for me and perhaps many other Basotho.

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A thought on chronicling Lesotho’s woes…

With everything that has been happening recently in the beautiful Kingdom in the Sky—motions of no confidence, abrupt closure of parliament, heads of trusted individuals rolling, and innuendoes about the military leadership–I have been rather worried.

And why wouldn’t I, with our uncomfortable history of instability? Personally, I hear there is much ado … I pray it better be about nothing, and if it is about something, it better be about the welfare of Basotho and not about protecting interests of individuals. I also pray that should anything happen, Basotho will have the wisdom to stand together in unity like Teyateyaneng (TY) folks when the city went up in flames: theirs was a remarkable story at so many levels that include the fact that this is where ‘Black Jesus’ hailed from.

Black Jesus was a real living human being–political, complex and controversial. He is worth at least a chapter in a book that chronicles the instabilities in Lesotho post military rule.

As a citizen of this era, if I were tasked with writing such a book, I would start deliberately with BBC’s transcript of an interview with ntate Qhobela, Minister of Foreign Affairs, when His Majesty plunged Lesotho into the first of the many crises that awaited her post the military rule.

Ntate Qhobela was asked a question along the lines: “So, Honourable Minister, what can you tell us about what’s happening in Lesotho?”

“The young boy woke up one fine morning and walked to the wireless station to topple a democratically elected government”, was pretty much his response.

Shell-shocked, the reporter asked, “Honourable Minister, are you really referring to His Majesty as a young boy?”

Ntate Qhobela sounding ever so defiant responded as follows: “I say … this young boy walked to the wireless station to topple a democratically elected government”!

The reporter attempted again to get ntate Qhobela to withdraw his words, but failed and moved on with the interview.

Sadly, I can’t recall what came next, in part, because that bit didn’t make the cut in creating a ‘sound bite’ that was to be repeated over and over again–when giving a report on the latest happenings in the small Kingdom, surrounded by its single neighbour, South Africa, which had but just had its first elections.

The ‘sound bite’ without doubt served its purpose. It stirred very interesting debates around the question: what really … really was ntate Qhobela saying?

This is a question that opened my eyes to the intercourse that exists between language and politics–both with a capital and small ‘p’.

His Majesty at that time was unmarried. Culturally speaking he was a young boy, if at all he was not born into the royal family. I put emphasis on ‘if’, for in my opinion, it is the ignoring of the conditional that proved problematic.

But to a level of causing anyone to be shell-shocked and left totally exasperated…? This, I am uncertain of. I know there is infantilising language, but there is also context.

In ntate Qhobela’s response, there was an embedded ‘we are from a different generation’ message. He made it perfectly clear he was part of thee generation: the last standing generation taught by teachers who learnt Latin extensively. Or if you like, the purist generation that cannot bring itself to utter words like radio and fridge. But most importantly, a generation that defines the concept of respect differently.

So, while indeed it might not have been proper to call His Majesty a young boy, I would argue the reference was made at a level of merely getting us to engage with a question of what it means to be born a royal in a country founded by a minor chief, who was far from the apex of aristocracy. Basically, how do we make sense of the privilege that is so profoundly linked to democracy?

In all probability, at that point of the book, I would leave the question unanswered. Instead, I would ease myself to the 1998 moment, where Basotho went to their father, the King, Rabasotho, for refuge. In narrating this moment, I would attempt to make visible yet again the intercourse between language and politics. I would explore at some length what caused a respected leader, Thabo Mbeki, to assert that the truth was being prostituted with gay abandon. What was the truth? And why the need to use words laced with sexuality?

Anchored in the idea of the truth, I would fast forward to this current moment of uncertainty in search for the truth. And here, I mean any other truth except that there are no permanent enemies in politics!

I am not sure how that book would end; all I know is that the truth as a central theme might prove to be stranger than fiction. I suppose because at the moment I feel, there is the truth, and the truth behind the truth. And the only way to disambiguate is to read between the lines or wait patiently for the real truth–for apparently in the end there is but one truth, hence the saying “nnete e mokoka”! Hmmm…but really?!

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In congress…we trust(ed)?!

“Hopes were high that elections in Lesotho on the 27 March 1993 would restore democratic rule and establish the political stability that eluded the country since its independence”, wrote Leslie Gumbi, a researcher in the Institute for Defence Policy, in a 1995 article titled: “Instability in Lesotho: A Search for Alternatives”.

Today, 21 years later, Lesotho remains (d)eluded! What then will it take for us to attain political stability? In the last few weeks alone, there have been serious talks about removing the Prime Minister and reconfiguring the government in a number of ways that may see the leader of opposition possibly being at the helm of government.

I cannot really say whether this is for the best or not. All I know is that— for a population of just around two million— we need to seriously rethink our politics. Otherwise, how else can we improve the quality of lives of Basotho?

One thing we need to think about is the number of political parties we (should) have. Pre-1993 elections were contested by not more than five political parties, which included Basotho Congress Party (BCP), which won the 1993 elections. This party has since split into more than five political parties, each a “Congress” of sort –except perhaps Hareeng Basotho Party, which in fact was the only splinter party of the BCP in the 1993 elections.

Just looking at this one party, which was supposedly meant to liberate Basotho, what really is at the heart of its fragmentation? Is it really all to do with nation-building? Why the failure to congregate together—ho hata mmoho— to build a peaceful and prosperous future we are all longing for?

I would imagine this is one of the reasons the word “congress” features ever so strongly in the names of the splinter parties. If so, can we sincerely trust in the spirit of congress? Here I don’t mean in political party terms, I mean trust that in congress we can attain stability: re ka ba le tumelo e phethahetseng hore lets’oele le beta phoho… hoba ruri mphe-mphe ea lapisa!

This is my humble thoughts for today. May we ponder about this day in history and (re)commit ourselves to a better tomorrow.

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Independence—Meandering questions

NUL-grad

It is a long independence weekend in Lesotho. We are three years shy from celebrating 50 years of independence, but given that we are far from experiencing “nala” (prosperity) as a nation, I am not sure whether this is something to delight in or cry for.

Actually, I lie! If it were to help in any way I would most certainly cry for my beloved country, Lesotho fats’e la bo-ntat’a rona.

Despite conferring degrees by the masses—like we did last weekend—our education system is plummeting.

Education, the cornerstone of development, is now largely regarded as a matter of personal achievement, or, to put it more bluntly, a means to upward mobility. We use the likes of Michael Schumacher as crowning examples to cement this idea. And, of course, to inadvertently reinforce this growing outward-looking culture, where anything good can only come from the outside and necessarily imbues a Western (capitalist/neoliberal) feel of success to it.

Fundamentally, we seem to forget that education is deemed a right because it is a venture of social justice and a means to creating a society of equals. I would argue based on last Saturday’s graduation speeches that this view to education is only partially remembered because of some unspoken agreement that a hearty speech should, at a minimum, be peppered with “public service” rhetoric.

But what if we had gained independence from the bonds of political correctness and unspoken accords of what qualifiers as a hearty speech? What would be our truth when it came to education and the general state of affairs? Would we see ourselves as plummeting into a failed state or a nation on a prosperous track?

Truthfully, I am not sure of the answers, but I think it is time that we revisited the three core questions of the 1960s when we were a nation in search of its identity:

  1. Re bo mang? —who are we?
  2. Re tsoa kae?—where do we come from?
  3. Re ea kae?—where are we heading?

Otherwise, how do we ever hope to be self-sufficient again? Or rekindle that industrious spirit that made us breed our own sure-footed ponies at a time when horses were a mere novelty?

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Mother tongue delight

To speak a language is to take on a world, a culture.- Frantz Fanon

Today, as proclaimed by UNESCO, is International Mother Language Day. This is the day that each one of us is to delight in their mother tongue language: “to promote awareness of linguistic and cultural diversity and multilingualism”.

I shall delight myself by exploring the potency of naming in Sesotho. As we all know, names are intended to convey a message. The question is why would anyone, for example, name a road curve “moqato khaola”? Moqato, if I grant myself permission to be reductionist, is akin to that string in g-string. In the past, when men used to wear that ‘loin garment’ called ts’eea, we referred to the string holding the garment together moqato. So, translated in context, moqato khaola simply communicates how dangerous that particular curve is. It is so dangerous that it can break (khaola) that vital string, which when broken can shame a man. Notwithstanding the dangerousness of this curve, what delights me, particularly as a feminist that I am, is that this confirms to me that indeed women are the best drivers! Otherwise why are they not told to heed the danger?!

Moving right along. If my point is truly to demonstrate the potency of naming, then I think it is fitting to explore names given to some alcoholic beverages in Lesotho. I hope through this exploration, it would be evident why I find the subject of naming delightful. Below is a table with a few of my favourite names given to locally brewed “beer”.

NameLiteral translationInterpretation to the translation
Hata-butle-nchanyanaStep slowly my boy.Drink this but remember to take it easy ... nice and easy my boy or fall you shall.
Ithoballe-nchanyanaGo to sleep my boy.Drink this, it's lights out my boy... the question of home or not becomes mute.
Lebitla-le-ahlameThe grave is open.To drink too much of this beverage is but to make an appointment with death.
Qhoma-o-checheJump and take a step back.Drink this and you might just feel light on your feet: you will walk with a bounce but it might just be a case of "moving two steps forward and one step backward".
Sekipa-se-ntekaneT-shirt is enough for me.Drink this and suddenly it gets so hot ...you might just start stripping and possibly leave your blanket behind; blankets are expensive so this is not desirable at all.

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A New Dawn for Lesotho

A new government: a new dawn for Lesotho! Or is this just wishful thinking? I suppose time will tell; but the plain truth is that Lesotho is desperately in need of change.

We need a change where each person’s humanity can be affirmed positively. A change where all can get access to services not because they are “Semake le Semanyamanyane“, well-connected so-and-so’s!

Without this change, the idea that being known is to be human might permanently take root in our society and culture. And eventually, it might be deemed normal to equate humans to (unloved) animals — like Rakotsoane does, for example, in his poem “Re hetla morao” 1:

Ha u se ‘nyeo u katana sa Lesotho,
Mohofe oa ho ja ngoatho sa maobeng,
Farakatšana ea sefetjoa mahlatsa,
Monetoa-kamehla ka manotho-notho.

Translated in context, the above snippet by Rakotsoane states:

If you are not so-and-so you are Lesotho’s tattered-rag,
A destitute to eat beyond yesterday’s leftovers,
A piglet to be feed vomit,
A subject of perpetual abuse rooted in unending justifications.

With the above in mind, and a plethora of other equally troubling reductionist views arising from poverty, corruption, etc., I reiterate: Lesotho needs a change. Hence, I sincerely hope that a new government and a new opposition will translate to a new dawn for Lesotho. Further, I hope that we, as citizens, will also do our part.

Kopano ke matla! Ha re neneng e le kannete lisuoa le bobe bohle-bohle: bosoto, bokhopo, boipatlo, boikhantšo, boikaketsi, bomenemene j.j. ! (Unity is strength! Let’s passionately hate conflict and all forms of deplorable ills: malice, meanness, pomposity, arrogance, hypocrisy, dodginess, etc.!) 2

  1. In a book titled Sekoele Basotho! written and published by Lobiane F. C. Rakotsoane. ↩
  2. Please note: I tried my best to avoid any words that may be considered offensive or profane; ho butsoa, ke butsoitse! ↩
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Came for a Reason

Africa without any boundaries is my home. However, once in a little while I meet someone who makes me question whether South Africa is my home.

South Africa is my temporary domicile (until my studies are complete). As a proud Lesotho citizen, I have all the intentions to go back home and when that time comes, no one will have the benefit of saying to me: “khomo, boela hae u holile”. This literally translates to: “cow, go home you have grown”.

In the meantime, to anyone who is intent on making me feel like this is not my home, I came here for a reason. My reason is not to play a game like morabaraba (a strategy driven board game); my reason is to get a dose of knowledge. So please listen to my plea (captured poetically below) and let me be!

Moleko, tloha ho ‘na!
Ha ke ea tla morabarabeng.
Ke tlile ngakeng:
Ke tlisitse sebono eteng.
Ha ke ne ke tlile morabarabeng,
Ke ne ke tlare:itekanye mesikaro!
Ke namane e ts’ehla;
Motho a ka thiba ka ‘m’ae,
Kapa a thiba ka monoana!

Moleko, haeba o na le litsebe, libule,
Haeba o na le mahlo, le oona a bule,
Le kelello haeba e teng, e sebelise!
Hoba ke namane e ts’ehla;
Ha ke rore feela, ke ea loana!

Translation of the above, without getting into the depth of the language is as follows:

Evil one, get away from me!
I didn’t come here for morabaraba.
I came for the doctor:
For my arse to be injected.
If I had come for morabaraba,
I would say to you: weigh your “capabilities”!
I am a yellow calf; 1
A person could defend with their mother, 2
or defend with their finger!

Evil one, if you have ears, open them;
If you have eyes, have them open as well;
And if you have a brain, use it!
For I am a yellow calf;
I don’t just roar, I can fight!

The bold part of the translation is arguably inaccurate. Doctor is ngaka in Sesotho. Ngakeng refers to any place that a doctor practices his/her craft e.g. hospital or sangoma’s chambers. People go to these places to see doctors; hence, my translation. Actually, to be exact, they go there for cure. Just to be indulgent, in the above context, the disease that needs cure can be regarded as either poverty or ignorance. Its all a matter of interpretation!

  1. Yellow calf is a term of endearment for a lion/lioness. ↩
  2. The potency of this statement is lost in translation. ↩
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Taking my head off to Moshoeshoe I

It is that time of the year when we take our heads off to the founder of the Basotho nation, Moshoeshoe I. He was a man with multiple lifetimes of wisdom! As I have suggested in previous blogs, despite believing in the principle of love, Moshoeshoe knew and understood that there were times when it was absolutely imperative to crush thy enemy totally and times when total surrender was the best course of action. The key lied simply in timing.

Today, I shall share with you a short story that involves his senior wife, ‘Mamohato. ‘Mamohato after being converted to Christianity decided to divorce Moshoeshoe I. He, of course, didn’t refuse. He called his people and told them that ‘Mamohato was no longer his wife but remained the mother of the heir apparent. Came the planting season and the people ploughed the fields of all the king’s wives except that of ‘Mamohato. ‘Mamohato was, as the story goes, extremely upset by this. She went to the king to lay her complaint. The king called his people to ask why they skipped her field. The people answered by asking whether or not she was still married to the king.

Allow me to digress a bit before giving the king’s response so that you may perhaps appreciate how pregnant this question was. Lesotho, as is still the case, is a hierarchical society. Around Moshoeshoe’s time it had two main tiers: “bafo”, commoners in the majority and “marena”, the kings or the general blue blooded individuals in the minority. In many ways this hierarchy was very comparable to some European class structures of that time. Below is an image for the comparison. What I haven’t captured is that the clergy, though highly debated, were at the apex in both structures, influencing (mis)appropriately the ruling class (i.e. the aristocracy).

 

European vs. Basotho Class Structures in the Past

 

Based on these structures, the primary duty of all people in the lower class(es) was to serve the aristocracy. A person through marriage could be pulled to a higher class. It really was that simple. Now here was a dilemma. ‘Mamohato who had sought for a divorce wanted the privileges that came with being a king’s wife. Moshoeshoe as the ultimate king of the land had the powers to order his people to plough her field. Taking into account the response of his people, Moshoeshoe recognised that to give such an order would be foolish. So he didn’t! Instead he went to help ‘Mamohato to plough her field and some of his loyal followers joined in.

To me, this act, however small it may be, says so much about how wise Moshoeshoe was. He understood that lest he wanted a coup, deciding otherwise would be a mistake. It may sound like I am being dramatic by talking about a coup but we are talking about a man who understood that taking anything for granted can be costly. He understood that opportunities of any kind may present themselves in the mundane. This is how he destroyed some of his enemies and this is how he built a formidable nation.

As we celebrate and honour this great leader of the soil, may we remember that the mundane is important. May we also keep our focus in the future but without forgetting to be in the present – for, who knows, we might just be presented with unbelievable opportunities. In this particular story of ‘Mamohato, Moshoeshoe was presented with the opportunity to cement his greatness by demonstrating humility (a king working the fields … imagine that!) Many might have not have seen this opportunity and might have easily fell into the trap set for them, but Moshoeshoe didn’t! He managed to take the long view on things and in the process, to re-create himself into a true king out to serve his people without regard of societal norms on what jobs may or may not be suitable for the king.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is why I am taking my head off to Moshoeshoe I. He was one of a kind! May we all aspire to learn a thing or two from him. Happy Moshoeshoe’s day to all!